Four
by ScullysGone
Summary: The gifts that mean the most are the ones that come from the heart...


The display cases are filled with dazzling pieces, practically luminescent under the studio lighting. Murano Millefiori vases, Kosta Boda Art Glass and Lalique nudes set atop fine velvet cloths, calligraphy detail cards set into Swarovski card holders. Along the far wall of the gallery, curio cabinets are filled with delicate blown-glass menageries.

She's too practical for this type of thing, he thinks. But women appreciate the beauty of a heartfelt gesture over practicality, don't they? After all, he did do the research and find out the 15th anniversary is traditionally crystal. He did find the most prestigious gallery within a hundred miles, so she can't give him her famous you-get-what-you-pay-for look.

Standing at the counter, the haughty curator sniffs at his selection.

"Will this be all, Suh?"

The snooty little man practically chokes on his disapproval of Mulder's chosen gift. But it is paid for, packaged and squirreled away in his coat pocket without much regard to what anyone but Scully will think of it.

When he walks through the front door, she's standing in the kitchen with a glass of California Syrah and a kitchen towel tucked into the waist of her Saturday-only jeans. The heady smell of roasting meat hangs in the room.

"What's up, Doc? I smell fresh kill."

Without turning to glare, she throws her head back on her shoulders and shakes it in mock disgust.

"Must you spice /everything/ with your boyish vulgarity?"

He wraps his arms around her from behind and nuzzles his favorite soft spot below her ear.

"Old habits die hard, G-woman."

"Good God, ain't that the truth! The new roll goes ON the holder! NOT on the back of the toilet!"

He tickles her sides and dies a thousand deaths in the music of her laughter.

"So what's cookin'?"

"It's a bison roast, with balsamic-glazed butternut squash and Brussels sprouts. Happy anniversary, Carnivore."

"MEAT! How did you know?!"

"Old habits, Spooky."

She turns around in his embrace, pinching the soft spots around his waist.

"Those precious little love handles of yours didn't come from a vegetarian diet."

God, but she is stunning when she's playful, and he can't stop is lips from seeking her's. He kisses her with purpose, thinking in earnest how much he loves her and pushing that love through their touching skin. Surely she knows. Surely she feels it, pouring from him. Her lips bite with lingering wine, soft as silk, and grow warmer as they move with his. Of course she knows, and he swears he can feel the same love flowing from her.

"Hey."

He breaks their embrace gently.

"I have something for you."

She smiles shyly. He takes his treasure from the pocket of his coat and holds it out to her.

"Fifteen is the crystal anniversary."

Again, his favorite little grin plays on her flushed cheeks and his heart swells. Points for the research, Muldini.

Opening the velveteen box, she inhales sharply, her hand covering her mouth. She is silent, staring, and he's suddenly worried he made the wrong choice.

But it was perfect, wasn't it?

"Scully?"

She runs her finger gently over each of the four glittering crystals set in the rose gold cross.

"It's to replace the one you lost."

The one Maggie gave her as a child. The one he'd held when she was abducted. The one he'd found in the empty chamber in Antarctica. The one that had helped restore her faith as she lay dying of cancer. The one he had taken to the jeweler's to have cleaned and polished and sealed, and then somehow had lost on the five-mile journey home.

She had been heartbroken, but gracious in her forgiveness; just like she always was where he was concerned.

"I mean, I know it can't replace it. I just meant… I mean it…"

"It's beautiful."

The exhortation whispers through her lips, eyes wet with loving tears and her chin trembles; she caresses the cross as if it is the very tree on which Jesus Christ was crucified.

He isn't worried anymore.

"They're Swarovski crystals. One for each of us."

Wiping the wet from her eyes, she looks at him confused.

"But...there are four of them."

"That's right."

He nods slowly, a soft smile across his face. Her stare deepens as the realization falls on her, a fresh tear sliding down her cheek.

"Oh, Mulder. One for each of us. You and me. One for William. And one for Emily."

"Happy anniversary, Scully."


End file.
